A Fear of Falling
by Child of the Ashes
Summary: The Kurosaki twins are anything but normal. They're dangerous, intelligent, sexy, and completely off the market.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Fear of Falling

Warnings: Sexual situations, violence, and sibling love ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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**Chapter One**

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Shiro lifted the cigarette to his mouth. Taking a long drag, his gold-tinted, heavy-lidded eyes squinted against the smoke and late afternoon sun.

He checked his phone.

Three past five.

He lean back into the shadows of the school's brick fence, ignoring the giggling group of underclassmen sneaking peeks at him, surreptitiously scanning the courtyard for teachers. Not that he cared about getting lectured or jerked into the office or whatever they'd do if they caught him smoking for the hundredth time. But they did have ways of making life shitty when they felt like it, and all he wanted to do was find Ichigo and go home.

Shiro took another drag and tilted his head back against the wall to watch the sky, relocating the uniform jacket under his arm so he could squeeze a hand into a skin-tight pocket.

Wasn't like he gave a fuck what his instructors thought.

He'd gotten used to people expecting the worst of him. Had been singled out his whole life. It wasn't anything new, and he didn't see a reason to whine about it. Sometimes people just got shit breaks.

Not that he was happy about it. Hell, there were entire weeks where a person could just look at him wrong and he'd see red. He didn't know what made him that way. Maybe it was part of growing up to be a selfish asshole and not know or care why.

But that was him.

Kurosaki Shiro. White as the driven-fucking-snow and eternally pissed off about nothing.

That's what people saw when they looked at him.

When he was alone anyways, which only ever seemed to be at school. Or unless they wanted in his pants. That seemed to be a new kick recently. Apparently, he was _exotic_.

Stupid bitches.

Not that his fan club was limited to females. Shiro snorted to himself and wished his twin would hurry the fuck up before those girls got any closer and he had to get snarly to keep them at bay.

Even as he thought about it, Ichigo came down the front steps.

Shiro tracked him with his strange, inverted eyes. His chest did the same weird tightening thing it always did when his brother came into sight, and his lips lifted at the edges.

About fuckin' time…

From across the courtyard, it was hard to tell if Ichigo was annoyed or just tired, but Shiro's gaze narrowed. Ichigo was his. His brother. His twin. The other half of his _goddamn soul. _If someone had hassled him, they'd be bleeding later. It wasn't any more complicated than that.

He didn't tolerate anyone screwing with his brother, just like Ichigo wouldn't tolerate anyone screwing with him.

That's how it was for them, and he liked it that way. Inseparable since birth. They'd never spent a day apart their entire lives. Unless he was counting every fucking, miserable second of high school. He still didn't know who'd thought it'd be a good idea to split up their schedules. They only had a single class together.

But Ichigo could take care of himself. He knew that.

Surrounded by bickering classmates, his brother was out of reach for the moment, so Shiro backed farther into the shadows and watched almost mystified by how easy they all made it seem. Sure, he could fake being social and happy if he needed to, pretend to be comfortable and outgoing, but it wore him out. He got tired of it, and only for his brother's sake did he even try.

Shiro smashed the cigarette under his shoe before Ichigo saw it and gave him a hard time.

Ichigo hated smoking. Shiro could've filled a book with all the reasons he came up with on why it was bad for him. He'd jack booklets on quitting from the clinic and stuff them into Shiro's school books just to piss him off.

Ichigo, his brother and his mother apparently.

Shaking his head with another half-smile, he turned and headed out the side exit.

-o-

Ichigo frowned as Shiro disappeared, but kept walking.

None of his other friends seemed to have noticed him at all, which irritated him more than he'd admit.

Shiro wasn't comfortable around his friends. He knew he wasn't, but it still bothered him. He'd hoped that it might change in the three years they'd been enrolled at Karakura High— that his friends would reach out or Shiro would force his way in— but nothing like that ever happened. Shiro put up with them, could even be coerced into eating lunch every now and again, but that was as far as it'd ever went for him.

Ichigo waved and said his goodbyes at the corner, waiting for the light to change before crossing to the opposite side. As he passed the first alley, he gained a pale shadow.

"Smoking's a filthy habit."

A snort. "Shut it."

Ichigo didn't need to turn to see the smirk on his brother's white features. A shoulder nudged his and he shook his head and smiled too. The school day always seemed too long.

"What'd ya think about the college thing? Decided yet?"

Ichigo's smile vanished. "No. How do they expect us to just make decisions this big? What if I change my mind about what I want to do? What if I'm no good at being a doctor?"

"You're too stubborn to be anythin' less than good."

He pressed his lips and shoved his hands into his pockets, but humored his twin's protest. "What about you?"

Shiro shrugged and Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

He was still planning to follow him, then. Great. Well, that certainly took the pressure off. Deciding for both of them was worse than just messing up his own life. Now he got to mess up his Shiro's too.

Fucking fantastic.

Not that he wanted to separate. They'd always been together. Suddenly not having Shiro there would be like cutting off an arm. A leg. Part of his fucking heart. Might as well ask his blood to stop flowing in his veins.

But it was too much pressure.

Why didn't Shiro see how bad he was going to fuck all of it up? How could he be so confident in him?

His brother was watching him with sharp, golden eyes.

Ichigo turned his head away as if that would break the contact. "I'll look at it again tonight."

"S' no hurry, there's still—"

"There _is_ a hurry, Shiro. Everyone's already sent off their applications, and been accepted or rejected and applied somewhere else. If the college reps didn't think I was a delinquent before they sure as hell do now—"

A strong hand twisted into his jacket and he was shoved into the brick building they'd been passing.

The air left his lungs with the force of it, and Shiro was inches from his face, eyes burning.

"Shi—

"Don' say that."

Even though he and his brother were supposed to be the same height, Shiro always seemed taller to him. Ichigo got why people were afraid of him. Shi could be scary as hell when he wanted to be. Absolutely vicious.

Ichigo swallowed then came to his senses. Scowling, he knocked the hand holding him aside and returned the fierce stare.

"Look, maybe you can get in wherever you want, but my scores weren't that great."

Shiro eased up and rolled his eyes. "Ya scored in the top twenty."

"Not nationally." Ichigo adjusted his bag, starting to walk again. "Not like you. I swear, if I find out you cheated…"

"Yeah, yeah."

He hadn't. Ichigo knew he hadn't. Shiro had been just as shocked as the rest of them when they'd gotten the scores. His grades had always been average. Although, he'd also never turned in half his assignments, which meant he had to be scoring high enough to maintain it. He never even studied.

Ichigo felt bad that his brother cold be that smart and he hadn't realized it.

He didn't want to sell him short like everyone else seemed to.

They walked the rest of the way quietly, fingers brushing from time to time, but he didn't mind. Hell, they'd slept in the same bed until they were twelve, and Tatsuki had commented on how weird it was. Neither of them had thought about it before that. Staying close seemed more natural than anything they did separately, and after their mom's death—

Ichigo shook his head to clear the thought and swallowed.

When they first started splitting them up in school, Ichigo had been teased about talking to himself. But the truth was he just kept forgetting Shiro wasn't there. He'd _always _been there.

Even if he didn't like the pressure of picking a school for both of them, the idea of separating to go to different colleges made him want to stop walking, lie down on the ground, and never get up again. He couldn't imagine being so far away from each other that he couldn't see him when he wanted, if he couldn't look over and read his thoughts or listen to him rant about pointless things.

For a second, he let their fingers intertwine and he gave Shiro's hand a squeeze just to reassure himself he was still there.

Shiro glanced over, took one look at his brother's face and squeezed back. He gave Ichigo another nudge, but didn't pry further.

They parted as they rounded the corner to the clinic, and slipped in the side.

The old man was with a patient, so for once they didn't have to worry about beating off his melodramatic greetings. Shiro ruffled Yuzu's hair as they went by, and attempted the same with Karin only to be swatted away.

But Yuzu beamed at the attention, calling up the stairs after them, "Ichi-nii, Shiro-nii, dinner's in ten minutes!"

Ichigo managed a grunt in acknowledgement and opened the door to their room, letting Shiro shut it behind them. He dropped his bag into the desk chair and fell face first onto the bed. Even though he had his own bed in the opposite corner where they'd taken out the closet, Shiro followed, stepping between Ichigo's legs and sliding down with his back to the wall.

It wasn't long before cool fingers were running through his hair and he twisted to put his head in Shiro's lap.

He looked up into molten gold eyes and wondered how anyone could think his brother was less than beautiful. Not normal, obviously, but more like a stunning work of art. A shock to the senses.

Frost white hair fell in pieces, caging in his strange burning eyes, and without thinking about it, he lifted a hand up to trace a pale cheek with a feather light brush of fingers. Sure there were people that wanted to screw him, but that wasn't even close to the same thing.

Shiro seemed to know what he was thinking because his mouth curved into _that_ grin. But before he could say anything, the door flew open, a shout ringing through the room as their heads whipped to the side.

"Boys! Don't think I didn't see you creep in like the little miscreants you are! You've disturbed the peace in this abode by showing up late! Now, daddy must mete out the house's absolute justice!"

Ichigo cursed his father's questionable parentage under his breath.

Shiro's muscles bunched under him like he wanted to accept the challenge, but his twin was still on top of him.

Grabbing the pillow, Ichigo flung it. "Shut up, idiot. Yuzu said we had ten minutes. It's only been," he checked the clock. "Five."

"Ah!" Isshin held up a finger. "But the rules of the house are subject to change without notice. And I say dinner is… Now!"

When he received only glares, he cracked his knuckles.

"You go low, I'll go high," Shiro muttered.

"No way," he hissed back. "Last time I ended up on bottom, and you two are heavy."

Shiro snorted, his deranged grin twisting wider, and Ichigo narrowed his eyes, because he knew his brother was fixing to say something lewd, but before he got the chance, Isshin was already tackling them.

"New rule! No plotting against daddy!"

A knee caught his unprotected stomach while he was distracted, and the air whooshed form his lungs. Shiro was already on it though, and he tried to twist from beneath the two of them throwing punches and elbows over his head. Someone trampled his spine before he could wiggle out onto the floor, and when he finally found his feet, he aimed a kick into his father's back, sending the both of them down in a heap.

He stalked to the door, rubbing his newest wounds. "Both of you are idiots."

Shiro gripped his hands together and dropped an elbow into their would-be attacker's ribs while he was down, earning a muffled "Umph!" for his trouble.

"Oi! Ichi, wait up."

-o-

Ichigo walked into the room, toweling his hair dry only to stop and scowl at the scatter of college pamphlets covering his bed.

Shiro traveled the line of his appealing form a second longer before going back to his manga. "Oyaji left those for ya."

Ichigo dropped his towel to let it hang around his neck and sighed, picking up the closest one and leafing through it.

"Tell me you hit him."

Shiro snorted and flipped another page. "'Course."

Across the room, Ichigo was silent for a long moment, unnaturally still.

"I wish mom was here."

Shiro closed his book, sliding off the bed and wrapping his arms around his brother from behind. His chin rested on a hard shoulder and his brow furrowed at the blank look on Ichigo's face. Reaching up, he pulled a strand of bright hair.

"Hey, I'm here. I can help ya."

Letting the hair go, he wrapped his arms tighter around Ichigo until he was supporting some of his weight. He got a soft smile for his effort, so he reached around him, picking up a brochure.

"How 'bout this one?"

Ichigo leaned his head back on his shoulder. "Too far away."

Shiro didn't need to ask why he wanted to stay close. He had friends here, even if Shiro didn't, and Ichigo wouldn't want to be more than a day's drive away from their mother's grave. He tossed it back.

"This one?"

"Too expensive."

He picked up another, but Ichigo frowned. "Kyoto? I'll never get in there. You might be able to, but even if I qualified, it's too late. They're probably full."

"Try it." He pushed it into Ichigo's hands. "It'll at least get goat-chin off your back."

A soft snort reached his ears, and before he could move, Ichigo turned around and wrapped him in a hug, face pressed into the curve of his neck.

Shiro's lungs seized, eyes widening before sliding shut as a warm breath caressed sensitive skin.

"Thanks," Ichigo whispered.

A strong hand came up to grip his shoulder, fingers tight, and Shiro shivered, biting down on a low moan as his brother spoke into the curve of his neck.

There was no way Ichigo wouldn't feel what that did to him. Being so close. Standing pressed together with arms wrapped tight around each other, there was no space left between them, and he felt the tense in Ichigo's muscles when he noticed Shiro's body reacting.

Shiro held his breath.

He couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault. But he knew how Ichigo felt about it. He expected to be pushed away, for disappointment to flash across his brother's face, but Ichigo didn't move back.

There was a moment of silence, and then the soft brush of a tongue and lips at his throat.

Shiro didn't know how to respond.

His hand fisted in the back of Ichigo's shirt as his heart skipped a beat then slammed into overdrive with a shuddered pant. "I-Ichi…"

He should say something. He should end this.

But lips still grazed along his neck and he found himself tilting his head to the side, exposing more skin for them to ghost over.

Nails scratched along his back as Ichigo tried to get a better grip and Shiro grunted. The hint of pain sent sweet waves of adrenaline crashing through his veins, waking his nerves, twisting into a tempest of heat and making him so hard he groaned, then hissed. He fisted orange hair, jerking it aside to scrape teeth over the top of Ichigo's tanned shoulder, biting down on the firm ridge of muscle there.

Ichigo gasped, and Shiro found his mouth, fingers tangling further into soft hair, holding him steady so he could push his tongue deep. He growled at the taste, a low sound rumbling through his chest as he tried to get closer, straining flesh flattened against straining flesh.

One of Ichigo's arms wrapped around his neck, the other still clawing down his back, dragging stinging trails of tormenting fire.

He couldn't let him get away with that.

Twisting them, Shiro pinned his twin against the wall, hiking a lithe leg up to wrap around his hip so that he could grind into the hard bulge under Ichigo's sleep pants.

Ichigo bucked beneath him, shaking and panting. Tanned hands skimmed down the heaving expanse of a white chest, left swirling currents of need reverberating through his veins and out to his limbs and back again. Blood pooled south, and he was so hard it hurt, hissing into Ichigo's mouth, forcing his tongue deeper, mapping out every last bit of that space with a possessive hunger that should've shocked him.

His senses were trapped in a dizzy fog of heat, stealing every thought he had that wasn't focused on fucking his twin against the wall.

He hauled the other long leg around his waist, taking his Ichigo's weight onto himself and caging him to the wall so he could grind deeper into the curve of his hips. Shiro's hand wrapped around Ichigo's neck, giving a firm squeeze before releasing to stroke down a tone chest and his brother moaned, flexed and arched into it like a cat as it traveled lower, scraping the heaving muscles of a taut stomach, making them shiver and tense.

When he reached the waist of the sleep pants, he passed it and went for the small closure in front, slipping the button free and reaching inside to wrap his fingers around hard flesh.

Ichigo jerked, muscles going rigid, eyes flying open. He tensed and made a strangled sound in the back of his throat when Shiro's thumb glided under the head and over the top.

His spine arched from the wall, and Shiro watched, stunned as he came undone with nothing more than that. It was perfect. Ichigo's mouth open, lower lip trembling, his hands clenched tight in Shiro's shirt. His eyes were startled but dark with carnal haze as he choked out a groan, shaft pulsing. His legs contracted with an almost painful grip around Shiro's waist with each wave of pleasure.

Wet heat coated his hand.

Shiro shuddered, licked his lips as Ichigo writhed, almost mindless.

His own erection was so ready it ached, but he couldn't take his eyes off Ichigo's. Couldn't stop the filthy thought of carrying him to the bed and fucking him until they both couldn't move.

He could see it in Ichigo's face. A flicker of heat and challenge and a desire so deep it brought a wicked smile to his twin's lips.

And then it was gone.

Ichigo went still and blinked, took a breath, and something like confusion mixed with revulsion crept over his face.

"W-What…?" He gasped and shoved Shiro away, nearly falling his legs were so shaky. His hand went up to scrub at his mouth. "What the hell was _that_?"

Shiro flinched back at his brother's tone, at a loss. Fuck, he was still reeling from the sight of him coming apart from nothing more than a few touches. Still had the evidence covering his hand.

"Ichi… I—"

"No." He shook his head, watching his pale twin with a weary gaze. "No. We said this wouldn't happen again. It's wrong."

Shiro's pride stung at that.

"You're the one that jumped me," he snarled. "So don' sit there lookin' like I'm some kinda fuckin' mastermind, _Ichi-nii_."

The chords in Ichigo's neck jerked at the name. He looked sick, and Shiro felt a wave of guilt, but he was too pissed and unsatisfied to give a shit.

Ichigo shook his head. "I didn't mean—"

"Whatever."

Shiro jerked his shirt off and cleaned his hand, tossing it away. He dropped onto his bed and faced the wall, blocking Ichigo out while he tried to talk his body out of being aroused.

Then the only sound was the low hum of the house's air kicking on.

A minute later, he heard the sound of drawers opening and closing. Then Ichigo snatched his pillow off the bed and slammed the door behind him.

**A/N**

**Ah, my first HichiIchi story :) Please, let me know how I did. ^^**

**I think this will be about six chapters. That's what I have plotted out anyways, but there's lots of wiggle room if anyone has any suggestions :D Also, there will be some fairly descriptive smut, because that's what I write, so um, yeah. Turn back now, I guess if you don't like that stuff :)**

**Too early for a kiss maybe? Idk, like I said it's not a long story, but hmm…**


	2. Chapter 2

Title: A Fear of Falling

Warning: Sexual situations, violence, and sibling love.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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**Chapter Two**

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After he'd cleaned himself off, Ichigo slept on the couch. Or he tried to sleep on the couch. In reality, he hadn't gotten any rest at all.

He hated fighting with Shiro, but what the hell else was he gonna do?

He couldn't act like this wasn't a big deal.

He knew how Shiro felt about it. His twin never pushed him away. Not once since this stuff had started when they were fifteen. But, damn it, it'd never gone so far either. And he had no idea why he felt like such an unbelievable _ass_ for putting a stop to it.

It was _wrong_.

They were brothers.

And he'd been the one to start it, which made him feel that much worse. He hadn't meant to. He didn't know why he'd done it. Just that at that moment, Shiro had been so _warm_ and he could smell his soap and a hint of smoke, and the delicate skin under his mouth had been so, _so_ tempting. And knowing Shiro wouldn't turn him down or think less of him... He'd gone over the edge for what could be considered acceptable behavior.

Everyone seemed to think he was a prude or asexual or whatever they wanted to call it. But the truth was he'd only ever wanted one person. He was weak, he fucking knew that. Which was why he needed Shiro to be stronger than he was.

He might've started it like his twin said, but Shiro hadn't even _tried_ to stop it.

And it wasn't like he couldn't.

Shiro had enough stubbornness for the both of them. He just didn't want to, and that was what pissed Ichigo off. And he didn't have any right to be pissed off, he fucking knew that too.

Ichigo jammed the toothbrush into his mouth, scrubbing his teeth with brutal force. When he was done he rinsed his brush and plinked it into the cup so hard it almost came back out. He'd have to do it again after breakfast because of Yuzu's stupid rule, but after last night, he just had the weird feeling everyone would know where his mouth had been, and he couldn't take the guilt.

Tossing the hand towel back on the counter, he opened the door and almost ran face first into his twin.

There was an awkward shuffle as they tried to decide who would go which way before Ichigo just picked a direction and shoved.

Shiro caught his sleeve as he headed for the stairs.

"Ichi…"

Alarm flashed through him. Ichigo twisted around to see if a family member was in earshot.

There wasn't anyone there, but there could've been.

He jerked his arm free. "Not now, stupid."

Hurt flashed over Shiro's features then all the emotion there, all the pain, just… shut off. Like a screen coming down.

Ichigo stiffened.

Eyes narrowed, Shiro sneered, leaning closer to whisper, "What's wrong, Ichi-nii? Scared someone's gonna find out what a freak ya are?"

Ichigo leaned back, burned by the force of his brother's indignation.

Maybe that was why Shi didn't care. When you were solid white from head to toe, people tended to assign those kinds of labels whether they were true or not.

But something told him that comment went deeper than that, and he was damn good at reading Shiro's cryptic statements. Even when his brother said the opposite of what he meant. They hadn't been spending as much time together in the last few months. Had Shiro been thinking it was because Ichigo didn't want to be around him as much? That was bullshit. Hadn't he proved he didn't give a shit what people thought already?

Just the idea of Shiro comparing him to the type of person he despised caused a stab of self-reproach. Ichigo tried to deny it, but it came a second too late. The bathroom door slammed in his face.

His mouth worked to form words, only nothing came out.

Ichigo walked down the stairs, numb.

Karin was packing her bag at the table. "What's up with you guys? You made so much noise last night I had to put on headphones."

Holy shit.

She _heard_ that?

Still reeling from the conversation upstairs, his brain stalled. Ichigo stared at her until she noticed and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Earth to Ichi-nii."

"We had a... a fight."

She rolled her eyes and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Duh, I said I heard you."

Pushing a hand through his hair, he made his way to the table and sunk down, snatching up his chopsticks to stab at his breakfast. His face felt hot. "Then why'd you ask?"

"I asked what was up, not what happened. I never see you two fight seriously. You're practically married."

Ichigo choked on his eggs as Yuzu picked up her plate, heading toward the sink.

"But married people fight all the time, Karin-chan."

Karin shrugged. "I guess so. I'm just sayin', if you and Shiro-nii adopt a dozen cats and move to the art district," she sighed. "I won't be surprised."

He knew she was just teasing, but he felt the overwhelming need to correct her before she even started down that path.

When he could breathe again, he sputtered out, "Don't be stupid. Like I'd be that twisted," just in time to look up and see his twin frozen on the last stair.

Shiro jerked like he'd been slapped.

Injured golden eyes stared at him before his features twisted into anger. He strode the rest of the way down the steps and jerked his jacket off the back of his chair. "That's right. No one'd be fucked in the head enough to want somethin' like me."

Yuzu came to the kitchen door. "What's wrong with Shiro-nii?"

"Nothin'. M' leavin'."

"But... But you didn't eat your breakfast…"

Ichigo's eyes widened as he realized how it all must've sounded. He stood, knocking his chair over and trying to catch his brother. "Shi! That's not what I meant and you know—"

Shiro wasn't in the mood to hear it. He closed the door on the rest, leaving Ichigo standing there.

-o-

A week later and they still weren't talking.

Nothing beside the bare minimum to make it through the day, and it was fucking pissing him off.

Shiro sat on the roof, chain-smoking, and doing everything he could to avoid the one class he and Ichigo actually had together. He leaned against the back of the silver ducts that fed the air conditioners, trying to stay out of the too bright sun. He was starting to wonder why he bothered coming at all.

At least, Ichigo hadn't kept sleeping on the couch. Shiro couldn't fall asleep without the sound of Ichigo's breathing coming from the other side of the room. He hated this. Hated fighting with his twin. Hated being cold and mean when all he wanted was the opposite.

But every time he'd tried to apologize, Ichigo shot him down.

He didn't want to lose his brother. Ichigo was his world. The only person that accepted him completely for who he was and not what he looked like. Well, Karin and Yuzu and the old man, but it wasn't the same. Ichigo _understood_ him.

There were times when he wondered what life would've been like if he'd been born alone. How unbearable it all would've been. Then there were times when he wondered what life would've been like for Ichigo if he hadn't been born. Wondered if he wasn't holding Ichigo back.

His brother would have a life of his own. He never would've had to spend half his time with Shiro, fighting back to back against creeps that couldn't let what he looked like go.

Being singled out was fine for Shiro. It'd made him tough. Strong enough to deal with just about anything. But Ichigo could've been normal.

He could've had a normal life.

And in the end, that was Shiro's fault.

Resting his forearms on his knees, Shiro stared out over the side of the roof, flicking ashes into the wind.

He'd gotten so goddamn hard that night. Like his blood had been replaced with fire. Now, he just wanted to forget it. He sure as fuck hoped Ichigo would.

The door to the stairs banged open, and footsteps started his way.

They didn't seem uncertain. They headed straight toward him. As if the owner knew exactly where Shiro was even before he saw him.

Shiro had long since stopped being surprised that Ichigo showed up when he thought about him. Maybe it was a twin thing. He'd heard a lot of weird stories like that. About how two twins could be in different places, but feel the same things or think the same things. As if they were connected by invisible strings.

That's always how he felt about Ichigo. Didn't mean he wasn't still pissed as hell at him though.

Shiro took a long drag as a shadow fell over him.

"So you're just skipping school now?"

He smashed his cigarette out with haphazard motions and flicked the butt over the edge of the roof, and he was just aggravated enough to hope it hit someone.

He blew out the smoke. "Don' act like ya care."

"When did I say I stopped caring, asshole?"

"What? Ya want me there?"

"I came out here, didn't I?"

Shiro shook his head, reaching into his pocket to draw out another cigarette. That wasn't the same thing.

"Stop that. Smoking's bad for you." Ichigo plucked the cigarette from Shiro's fingers, going to drop it over the side.

While he was occupied, Shiro lit another.

Ichigo clicked his tongue when he turned back, a frustrated noise coming from his throat as he snatched the pack away. "It's like you don't care about yourself at all."

"Stop tellin' me what ta do. Ya ain't mom. She's dead."

It was a low blow. All of them had taken their mom's death hard, but Ichigo had always been convinced it was his fault. Like he had made that car come off the road.

Just saying it made Shiro's insides cringe. But it was like he couldn't help it. He wanted Ichigo to hurt as bad as he did.

Ichigo's chest rose and fell with the force of his attempt to restrain his emotions, but he couldn't. "You think I _like_ being your fucking mother hen? You think I _like_ always having to take care of you?" He flung the pack back. "Fine. I won't bother you with it anymore. Take care of yourself."

Shiro glared as Ichigo straightened and started to walk away.

Liar.

Fucking _liar_.

The fuck kinda nerve did Ichigo have pretending he didn't feel the same way about how good they were together? It was a lie. And he didn't want him to get away with it. Like he was just so… _above it all._

Like he wasn't every bit as affected as Shiro was, the stupid dick.

A pale hand latched around Ichigo's knee. Quick, fast enough that his brother didn't have time to throw his balance to the other leg, Shiro jerked it out from under him.

His shoulder impacted the cement roof and Ichigo grunted then hissed at the pain, but as he tried to get up Shiro was over him, straddling his stomach, holding him with one hand flat around his collarbone.

Black nails caught skin, leaving unintentional scratches, but they were ignored.

He stared his brother down as Ichigo glared back up at him.

"Ya know what I think?" he hissed. "I think ya want me just as bad as I want you. But you're ashamed of it. So don't look down your fuckin' nose at me. Least I ain't a liar."

Ichigo's hands had come up to lock around the arm holding him down, and Shiro's wrist burned where they touched. His twin's teeth were grit, eyes narrowed, but there was moisture in the corners. Angry tears that would never fall, because Ichigo would never let them.

Shiro felt his anger drain away.

He let his grip loosen and Ichigo pushed him off.

They sat there, silent and not looking at each other. Finally, Ichigo stood up and stalked away, letting the door to the stairwell slam shut behind him.

-o-

Ichigo stood by his locker, toeing off his school shoes and stuffing them inside before sitting down to put his normal shoes on.

Shiro hadn't come back inside after their argument on the roof, and he was doing his best not to worry.

It shouldn't have been a huge deal. None of the big colleges cared about GPA, and after Shiro's scores on the entrance exams, he could skip the entire three week period they had left, and still go anywhere he wanted.

Ichigo shook his head. He still had no idea how he'd done it.

Most of the time Shiro was reading a magazine or some trashy sounding novel while Ichigo slaved over his books. Not that he'd done bad. He'd gotten a top score, after all. Assuming he hadn't waited too long to pick a school, he could probably still make a top seven university. But he still had no idea what he wanted to do.

It was strange.

The only thing he'd really ever pictured about his future life in college, was that Shiro would be right there beside him, smoking and being lazy while Ichigo broke his back to make a grade.

The muffled sound of laughter reached his ears as a group of guys entered the locker room at the far end.

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair, realizing he'd been staring at his feet for nearly five minutes.

Sorting through his books, he picked the one's he'd need and put the rest back, sliding the lock through the metal hoop and clicking it shut. He shouldered his bag and started down the rows toward the exit, mouth pressed with annoyance at the racket being made by the newcomers.

"—no, that's what I'm saying…"

"There's no way! Have you seen him? He's a freak."

"That's what I'm telling you, Tanaka-sensei said he got the highest composite score the school's ever seen."

Ichigo paused at the edge of their row.

"That shit's not right. Bet ya five hundred yen some douchebag fudged the numbers, 'cause they felt sorry for that thing… Bullshit. If that mutant's the reason I don't get into a good school, there's gonna be some fuckin' hell to pay. I'll tell ya that shit right now…"

More snickers, and Ichigo's hand tightened on his bag.

"—so white, I bet if you stuck some dye in his showerhead, that shit would never come off."

His teeth were clenched so hard, Ichigo nearly choked on his rage and the next few seconds were a blur.

He'd dropped his things to the floor. Ichigo remembered that part clearly. The feel of the strap sliding down his shoulder over his crisp, school shirt. The world was out of focus and still so sharp that he could make out the tiniest details.

He only bothered looking at their faces long enough to know who he was about to kill. He'd seen them before. Couldn't remember a single name, so he must not've been impressed. He sure as fuck wasn't impressed now. He was livid.

His fist crunched into the closest someone's jaw and he felt the slice of teeth biting through flesh. He might've been moving fast or slow, Ichigo didn't know. It didn't matter as long as his strike hit its mark.

But the best way to know how your opponent was going to move was to watch their shoulders. The face could lie, feign, but the shoulders gave everything away. So when the second guy realized what was happening and came at him, he ducked out of the way as easily as if the stupid fuck had told him what he planned to do.

His foot came up and caught him in the throat.

Brown eyes bulged. He went down and didn't try to get back up as he sputtered, struggling to draw a proper breath and staring at Ichigo with almost palpable fear.

It was strange how he was so calm and so angry at the same time. But he was. His rage was cold and ugly. Something he didn't want to examine too closely. He would hurt anyone that tried to touch his brother. Shiro was his. No one else had ever wanted him but Ichigo. And anyone that thought they could touch him better be prepared to bleed.

The last one charged. "—the fuck'er you smilin' about!?"

He drew himself up to full height a second before coming at Ichigo. Probably well over six foot. He didn't give a shit. Had done all this before.

Left-handed the guy was already at a disadvantage.

Ichigo took a running step and sprung, hiking himself up by kicking off the lockers beside him and coming in from above. There was a stunned expression on the guy's face. No doubt he was wondering where Ichigo had gone. One good hit and he'd be eating floor.

So Ichigo was surprised when someone tackled him from behind.

He hit the ground hard, even rolling to lessen the impact it hurt like hell. Ichigo ignored it. It was the first kid. His face was a mess and Ichigo had assumed he was out for good. Apparently not.

Standing, Ichigo swiped away the blood from a busted lip with the back of his wrist.

He didn't want the evidence of a fight on his shirt. It was a bitch to get out of clothes and always made Yuzu worry.

The two guys left closed in.

-o-

Shiro crossed his arms and looked out the window of his and Ichigo's shared bedroom.

It was six o'clock and his twin still wasn't home.

He shoved a white hand through equally white hair and closed his eyes. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. That something had gone wrong and it was twisting his gut into knots. Pride warring with worry had him ready to tear his own hair out.

He should've waited at the school.

Even if they were fighting, that wasn't a good reason to let his brother walk home alone. Ichigo had made a lot of enemies defending him over the years before he became desirable to the female population. It was enough that Ichigo got singled out by assholes because of his own strange coloring, but adding Shiro in was like crossing dynamite with C4. When things went off, they were fucking cataclysmic.

Shit. He couldn't just stay here and _wait_.

Shiro jerked open the door and started for the stairs, pulling his shoes on at the front. But as soon as he stepped into the clinic, he stopped.

The supply closet was open, Isshin's spare keys dangling from the lock, and a pill bottle rattled.

The figure straightened and a disheveled, orange head came into sight.

"What're ya doin'?"

Ichigo sighed and shut the door.

A dark purple bruise covered the space from a busted lip down to his chin on one side, dried blood still smeared around it. Ichigo held up the bottle so he could read the label. Ibuprofen.

"The hell happened to your face?"

Ichigo opened his mouth, but winced. He shrugged and muttered, "What's it look like?"

Walking to the sink, he splashed water on his chin, hissing at the contact.

Shiro growled and jerked his hands down. "Dammit. Don't do it like that, stupid."

"Don't touch me, Shiro." The threatening edge was lessened by the cringe that followed the words. "Ah…" Ichigo took a shallow breath. "_Fuck_."

"Told ya. You're just gonna open it back up. Sit down."

He gestured Ichigo toward the table, but his twin gave him a flat look.

"Where's Oyaji?"

Shiro rolled his eyes. "Out. Just sit. Not like I'm doin' surgery."

He didn't wait for Ichigo to comply. Instead, he raided the open supply closet for some cotton balls and antiseptic, coming back to see Ichigo sitting on the exam table, cringing and swallowing down the ibuprofen.

Taking a paper cup from the sink, he filled it with water before handing it over.

Ichigo grunted something that was probably supposed to be "thanks."

Shiro shrugged and unstopped the bottle, pressing a cotton ball to the top as he flipped it. Stepping between Ichigo's legs, he took his chin lightly between his fingers and tilted it up.

"Sting."

Ichigo jerked back, but let Shiro turn his face forward to keep going.

There was a fine trembling in Ichigo's jaw, but he couldn't tell if it was from pain or something else.

He cleaned the blood away, switching cotton balls until they stopped turning pink. Narrowing his eyes, he examined the lip. It was busted pretty good, but he didn't think it'd need anything more serious than an icepack and a band-aide.

He ran his finger over the abused flesh, and Ichigo took a sharp breath.

"Sorry." Shiro dropped his hands and started putting the supplies back. "Should ice it."

"I know that."

The words were probably supposed to sound harsh, but they didn't. Ichigo was looking off to the side, down at the floor.

"Ichi…"

Ichigo shook his head. A small movement that barely rustled his bright hair.

"Don't."

Shiro frowned.

He didn't understand why Ichigo wouldn't let it go this time. Sure things had gone further than any time before, but… shit, he didn't even know what Ichigo wanted him to _do _anymore. They never fought like this. And he'd tried to apologize. What the hell did Ichigo want from him?

He watched Ichigo another moment. "Fine."

Turning away from his twin, Shiro shook his own head and trudged back up the stairs, leaving Ichigo sitting on the table.

**A/N**

Review? :)


	3. Chapter 3

Title: A Fear of Falling

Warning: Sexual situations, violence, and sibling love

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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**Chapter Three**

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Shiro slipped his phone from his pocket, keeping it hidden under his desk as he unlocked it and read the text from Ichigo.

_Grad party __Saturday__._

Glancing at the teacher, he typed his reply, but a new message flashed up before he finished.

_You can't say no._

He snorted and erased his text, starting a new one.

Since he'd patched Ichigo up in the clinic, things had been closer to the usual for them. Not back to normal, but more relaxed. They'd been able to sit in the same room for more than a few minutes without arguing, and even if there was still an element of discomfort, it was a start.

_Whatever. _

He clicked send.

That was bound to thrill his brother. It was the closest thing he'd get to a confirmation. Then he frowned and sent, _Oyaji?_

_Conference._

Shiro leaned forward and pretended to take notes, tucking his phone under a leg in case Ichigo texted again. When the bell rang, he jammed his things into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, heading for the door and then the familiar head of unruly, orange hair he saw through the glass.

Ichigo gave a lazy smirk as Shiro emerged and shook his head.

"Jus' couldn't wait ta see me, huh?"

His brother seemed to have ditched his friends for the day, and Shiro silently thanked whatever deity had managed that feat as he followed him to the lockers.

"Not even close. I just knew you'd conveniently forget if I didn't come get you."

"Ya have so little trust in me."

"What I trust is that you'll do your best to skip out on tonight."

"Ouch, Ichi."

"Ouch, my ass."

He could hear his brother's amusement with his antics and Shiro grinned at nothing in particular as Ichigo shoved open the door at the end of the hall.

They stepped around the skewed lockers and the discolored carpet where the cleaning crew hadn't quite managed to remove the bloodstains. Someone had done a number on the place, but after two days, it was old news. Life went on around it as students dug in their lockers and changed.

He didn't bother going through his books, just tugged his shoes free and shoved the entirety of his bag inside before slamming it shut. "So where's this thing at anyway? An' since when do you party?"

"You know Kojima Mizuiro?" He waited for Shiro's nod. "His parents have a big place, and I guess they're never home or something like that." Ichigo's lips pressed at the second part, slanting his twin an indignant scowl as he straightened and shut his locker. "And I don't know what that's supposed to mean. I go out all the time. I _try_ to get you to go with me."

"Goin' out's not the same as a party."

He shrugged as they took a side exit and avoided the rush down the main hall. "Yeah, but it's probably the last chance for everyone to be together before the year's over and we all split up to go separate ways. I don't mind putting up with how stupid it's guaranteed to be for something we'll might never get to do again."

Shiro nodded. For Ichigo, that was all the deep conversation you were likely to get about feelings. It didn't matter, he understood. Even if they hadn't left for college, Ichigo was already missing the place and his friends.

Between them, Ichigo was the one that had the most trouble letting go.

Shiro nudged him, breaking him from his thoughts. "M' still here."

It was what he'd always said when they were younger, after their mom died and Ichigo couldn't stop crying during the night. Shiro remembered it acutely. Holding his twin while he shook and sobbed so hard he got sick.

Ichigo gave him a rare smile, glancing over, fingers brushing his. "I know."

They walked close enough their shoulders skimmed with every step, but Shiro didn't say anything else the rest of the way home. There wasn't any reason. He knew how Ichigo was feeling, and Ichigo clammed up the tightest when he needed reassurance the most. He'd hold it all in until he broke. A dam of pent emotion searching for an outlet. Shiro learned forever ago to pull his other half back from that edge, because Ichigo would never do it for himself.

But for the moment, he was alright and still holding together.

Shiro studied him from under thick lashes as they made their way inside and into the living area of the clinic.

Karin looked up from the sofa and Yuzu was nowhere in sight, but something rattled in the kitchen.

Ichigo thumped their dark-headed sister on the head with his bag as they went toward the stairs. "Hey, you two'll have to take care of yourselves tonight. We won't be here."

"Whatever."

She never looked up from her magazine and Shiro took the opportunity to ruffle her hair while she wasn't paying attention. He earned a growl and a flat glare for his trouble, chuckling as he followed Ichigo up the stairs.

As soon as he slipped his coat off and hung it on the hanger by his bed, Ichigo turned to pin him with a look as if something had just occurred to him.

"What are you wearing tonight?"

Shiro slid his own jacket off, running a hand under his shirt to scratch freshly exposed, pale skin. Ichigo gave his discarded clothing a fierce scowl when it missed the bed and crumpled to the floor instead. But something distracted him from commenting like Shiro expected, and he looked up to see Ichigo transfixed. He was watching Shiro's fingers.

Shiro shrugged, letting his shirt fall back into place. Ichigo was the expert on their wardrobe. "Dunno. Whatever ya pick out, I guess."

Dazed amber lifted, then his twin's words seemed to sink in. Ichigo scowled anew. "You know, I can't pick your clothes out forever. You need to start doing it on your own."

He rolled his eyes. "Ya like doin' it, so what's it matter."

"It matters. You just wanna be lazy."

That was somewhat true. But mostly, he just knew he could avoid Ichigo's obsessive compulsive knit-picking if he let his brother do it for him. Ichigo seemed to need some sort of correlation with their clothes. Not matching or identical outfits or any gay shit like that, it just bothered him if there wasn't some sort of harmony.

It was the same way with their room. Usually spotless. Ichigo didn't like things out of place.

His twin shifted, and Shiro paused to study him.

There was something in the movement and his brother's posture that caught his attention. A subtle fidget. The tense set of his shoulders. How he turned his head so his face wasn't quite visible. Then it all clicked. His brother was bothered. _Flustered_.

Shiro tilted his head, then his eyes narrowed.

Tch. After all the shit he'd gotten about that night.

With something like cruel satisfaction, Shiro slipped his fingers back up to the hem of his shirt and under.

"Fine. I'll dress myself." When his brother's attention turned toward him, he pushed his shirt higher up his stomach. Not so slow that Ichigo would catch on, but just enough to draw attention to the gesture before he shrugged it up and over his head. "I can do you too, if ya want."

The shirt fell on top of his jacket, and he flicked open the catch to his pants, gliding the zipper down.

He didn't turn, but he heard Ichigo's breath hitch.

It sent ripples of gratified, male pride washing though him, and he smiled to himself, certain Ichigo's gaze wouldn't be on his face. But the smirk was gone when he twisted back to his brother, patiently waiting for Ichigo's attention to land somewhere higher.

"That a no?"

Ichigo's eyes snapped up. "What?"

Shiro didn't bother to hide his smirk after that one. "Ya want me ta pick somethin' out for you too?"

His twin seemed to be contemplating the offer, then he scowled, turning away fully and doing his best to appear unaffected. He scoffed, but Shiro noted he didn't actually say no, which meant yes, he did, but no, he wasn't going to admit it.

Going to the wardrobe, he riffled through shirts, pulling out two while Ichigo paced the floor behind him, deep in thought. Although he still seemed to be paying attention well enough, telling Shiro to pick a darker shirt for himself. It was the only discouraging remark he made, so Shiro moved on to selecting pants, and then on to belts and shoes when Karin knocked and pushed the door open.

"If you two are going to be gone, can we sleep over at Hakari's house? Yuzu won't stop bugging me about it."

Ichigo was scrubbing circles across his temples. "Ask dad."

She huffed and left, and Shiro laid out selections, stepping back to get a better perspective before speaking. "Ya do know if she calls him, he might ask where we'll be, don'cha? And then there's nothin' ta stop him showin' up at Kojima's."

Ichigo cursed. He went out the door yelling her name as Shiro snickered to himself.

After he'd finished mixing and matching, Shiro rolled his school pants off and shimmied into a pair of faded, black jeans. A t-shirt came next, and he was buttoning a jacket when his twin returned. Ichigo stopped and grunted at Shiro's choice and then looked over his own clothes lying on the bed, which Shiro was taking as a good sign since he didn't immediately demand changes.

He watched Ichigo shed clothes from the corner of his eye as Shiro slipped a belt around his waist and shoved up his sleeves.

"What'd ya say to 'er?"

"I told them to just go. They know to call us if anything comes up and it's not like they haven't stayed over there before."

Ichigo finished dressing and Shiro gave him a once over, loving the hug of clothes over lean hips and the hint of strength tanned forearms. The chords of his neck when he moved. The way the fabric clung to his chest so that no one would have trouble imagining what was underneath.

He needed to pick out Ichigo's clothes more often.

When Ichigo straightened from fixing a pant cuff, Shiro attacked his bright hair and straightened out the places he'd rubbed it odd directions with his anxious fidgeting earlier. Ichigo attempted to dodge for a second before giving in— it was a good as a mirror anyway— and then straightening Shiro's in turn, tugging at white strands in a way that would have put him to sleep if they'd been lying down. Now it was just threatening to make him hot, so he pulled away.

Shiro wondered if it was a form of narcissism to think Ichigo looked so delectable when they appeared almost exactly the same.

Ichigo cleared his throat then swallowed not looking at him directly. "Ready?"

He snorted. "No."

It took Ichigo longer than normal to realize he was being sarcastic. He rolled his eyes. "It won't kill you. You're going."

"Whatever ya say, little brother."

Ichigo gave him an indignant glower before heading to the door. "By like what, a minute? That doesn't count. Besides, I act older."

After verifying Karin and Yuzu were already gone, Ichigo locked up and they headed down the block, backs to the sun that was dropping from the sky.

-o-

This wasn't even close to how he'd pictured the night going.

Ichigo shifted, pretending to sip his drink and pay attention to the conversation while he stole glances at his twin from across the room.

Shiro was doing it again. That thing where he managed to draw a crowd of people he didn't really want to be anywhere near. Ichigo watched as he threw back his head and laughed at something too faint to hear. White hair shone like polished silk in the dim light, his eyes dark and mischievous and enticing.

The crowd wanted a show, but it was the fact that Shiro was giving them one that fucking pissed him off.

And Shiro could act innocent all he wanted, but Ichigo knew exactly what he was doing. His brother could manipulate people like crazy. As if he could prod their emotions and get them to move in exactly the way he wanted. He was being so smooth and charming over there, Ichigo wanted to hit him.

His brother wasn't like that.

Someone knocked into him walking by, and Ichigo was so distracted by what was going on across the room, he didn't notice soon enough to keep his drink from sloshing. Beside him, Ishida started bitching and Ichigo snapped something thoughtless back.

The party kept going until he was ready to tear his hair out, watching his brother blow smoke rings for some fake blonde on his arm. But Ichigo was done.

He dropped his paper cup down on the table, the only thing he'd found to drink not loaded with booze, and crossed the room.

"Let's go," he called over the music.

Shiro tilted his head back. "Huh? Ya wanna leave?"

The girl was almost in his lap and turned her dazed head back to see him, blinking a few times. "Hey…" She looked back at Shiro. "You guys look a lot alike."

Shiro snorted into his cup, taking a drink. "Yeah, some people think so."

She looked between them again, and Ichigo could see her working to put it together. "What? Are you like twins or something?"

Ichigo eyed the cup in his brother's hand, but Shiro just laughed again, being far too accommodating for someone whose "date" was working hard to give Ichigo a good shot down her shirt. "Somethin' like that."

Shiro raised a brow at his twin, but far from looking irritated, he seemed amused by the situation.

Ichigo's jaw worked.

The girl gave Ichigo a once over, sliding down his twin's body with a moan. "That is so hot."

Shiro smirked, took a drag of his cigarette, and met Ichigo's eyes, flicking ashes into a different cup.

"Hear that, Ichi? We're hot."

He had to struggle not to snap, clenching and unclenching his fists. He ignored the comment. "Are you _drinking_?"

Someone called his name from across the room, and Ichigo decided he was glad for the interruption. He turned away from his brother without waiting for an answer, picking his way through the crowd, disgusted with everything. Shiro called after him, but he didn't look back.

Ichigo shoved a hand into his hair, probably turning it into an even more disheveled mess. What the hell was the matter with him?

Shiro came to the party like he'd asked. Was having a good time, and Ichigo _wanted_ him to have a good time. So why was he so pissed?

It wasn't the drinking. His friends drank, and even if Ichigo didn't care for it, it didn't bother him anymore. Most of them were responsible. And Shiro could handle himself even when he was wasted half out of his mind. So what was it? Was he jealous? Of that girl? Of his brother?

_Shit_... A headache was forming in the center of his forehead. All the over-thinking was taking a toll. Maybe _he_ should be the one drinking.

What would Shiro think of that?

There was an arm slung over his shoulders and he lifted his head to see Keigo.

"Ichi-go… Why aren't you having a good time like the rest of us, Ichi-go? I-chi-go… Tha's a funny name. Ichi... _go_."

Ichigo just glared.

He was half supporting Keigo's weight as the overloud nuisance clung to him, laughing at his own joke. A drink waved around in his other hand, and Ichigo looked from it to his brother.

"What are you drinking?"

Keigo looked at his hand as if he was surprised to find a cup there.

"Oh, this? Uh… Not sure. They made it for me in the kitchen." He waved toward the front door. "But I feel… really, _really_ good." He dissolved into giggles and rubbed into Ichigo's side. "Really good."

"That works." Ichigo snared the paper cup and tilted it back. Even knowing it'd be strong, he came up sputtering. Hell, he almost gagged. "_Holy fuck, Keigo_." He coughed some more, dragging in a rasping breath. "You were drinking this?"

"Well, I was." He looked mournfully at his shanghaied drink. "Best go get another. Bye bye, I-chi-go..."

Keigo sauntered off and Ichigo shook his head. He took another few drafts before his arm was forcefully pulled from his mouth. He got a close-up of heated, golden eyes.

"The hell are ya doin'?"

Ichigo blinked. That was faster than he'd expected.

Had Shiro been watching him?

The thought slid through his mind with the same warm weight as the drink settling into his stomach. It was actually kind of pleasant. His body was tingly, and his head felt light, almost dizzy. He didn't know it could hit him so suddenly. It was strong.

Shiro's gaze hadn't left him. It burned him, demanding an answer.

Ichigo scowled. "You've got eyes."

Shiro didn't release his arm when he tried to pull away.

"Ya never drink."

"So what? I decided to. What's your fucking problem? You can smoke, but I can't drink? Screw you, Shiro." He switched his drink to the other hand and jerked free. "Go back to your… friend."

His pale twin was as angry as he'd ever seen him, but he stormed away and Ichigo kept drinking. Keigo returned with something else and when Ichigo emptied his cup, he took that one too, sipping it much slower. The sharp taste of the alcohol dulled after a bit, and this one wasn't bad.

He watched the couch, but Shiro never went back to it and the girl left with someone else.

The crowd thinned after midnight. Ichigo was talking, even laughing and smirking at stupid jokes. He went to push Keigo back off, only for someone to chuckle.

Ichigo's head bent back to look up at the new arrival leaning on him. It was almost odd to see someone taller than him. Where the hell was Keigo? When did this guy get there?

"I wondered when you were going to notice me," a deep voice chuckled into his ear.

Green eyes gazed directly into his. Contacts? That couldn't be natural. And that teasing smile was too close for comfort.

The grip tightened, bringing him closer. "You're cute. Wanna go somewhere?"

Cute? Seriously? How fucking eloquent.

He figured it wouldn't really be fair to deck the asshole at that point. Ichigo had let him lay on him for who knew how long, so he peeled the arm from around his neck and dropped it.

"No."

"What's your problem? Thought we were having a great time here." The arm attempted to wrap back around Ichigo's shoulders, a leer spreading over what might've otherwise been an attractive face. "You just need to get warmed up."

Ichigo pulled his head back to gain space and pressed his lips. Okay, now it was fair to deck him.

But before he got the chance, the pushy asshole was wrenched from his range, and Shiro appeared, catching his fist.

"Don' even think about it. Ya could kill him on accident, dumbass. You're too drunk ta fight."

Ichigo stared.

Wasn't Shiro supposed to be defending his honor or something? Or maybe not something so obviously gay, but… Huh. What a weird thought. Did he want to be gay with his brother?

He snorted.

That's it. He was done thinking for the night. It wouldn't lead anywhere good and he already wanted to knock his head into a wall.

Shiro just gave him that look he saved for those rare occasions when Ichigo was the one doing something stupid. That was how he knew it might be time to go.

-o-

Shiro led his brother down the street. Which wasn't really leading, he just redirected Ichigo when he started to wander off course.

His inebriated twin was actually holding his liquor well enough. He walked straight, hands in his pockets and head high even if his eyes were heavy-lidded. No outward signs he was drunk, other than a flighty attention span and his words holding a hint of slur. Shiro might've even been impressed at how he was taking it, if it all hadn't been so stupid.

Drinking to teach him a lesson…? Really, Ichigo?

Shiro shook his head and pulled out a cigarette, tapping it on the pack before sticking it in his mouth. He fished around and found his lighter, flicking it a few times before it caught.

"Smoking's bad for you."

There was an almost mechanical sound to the remark. Like Ichigo was on auto-play.

He flipped his gaze to his twin, but Ichigo wasn't looking at him. "Yeah? So's drinkin'."

Ichigo didn't respond to the rebuff, but stopped walking.

"Lemme see it."

Shiro's foot snagged over the pavement. "What?"

"I said give it to me. I wanna see what the big deal is. You do this stuff all the time, but you're still gonna get into a great school and no one's breathin' down your neck."

"Other than you...?" Shiro blew out a smoke-filled sigh.

Ichigo leaned back against the building beside them, posture lazy. As if someone had stolen his bones. He held out a hand.

His amber gaze was almost sensual. Drowsy, but still burning.

Shiro felt blood stir, heading lower. Shit, it went straight for his dick. Was his twin asking to be corrupted? Wanting to do something dirty and wrong? And he wanted Shiro to help him with that?

He licked pale lips to wet them, mesmerized, nearly growling, when Ichigo mirrored the action.

Ichigo was missing every warning sign. Maybe he was ignoring them. Shiro didn't know.

If it'd been anyone else, he would've had them halfway down a dark alley. Pinned against that building. Clothes pushed open. Shiro wasn't a particularly good person, and his mind flashed through all the ways he could work the situation.

And he would've sworn Ichigo was aiming for that, testing Shiro's limits to see if they'd snap.

But this was his brother. What he wanted to do and what he should do were two different things.

The hand was still waiting, and he'd never been able to say no to Ichigo. Or he just didn't want to.

Shiro stepped forward, holding the cigarette out, studying his twin's face to see if he really intended to go through with it. If there was even a trace of doubt... Shiro wouldn't let him have it. There was none.

Ichigo took it between his index and ring finger, meeting Shiro's eyes as he brought it to his mouth and took a drag. The burning end flared brighter before Ichigo pulled it away.

He didn't even have a chance to breathe out all the smoke before Shiro was on him.

He took Ichigo's mouth hard, teeth sinking into a plush lower lip. He caught Ichigo around his upper arm to hold him still for the assault, and when Ichigo gasped, his tongue swept in, dragging firm strokes along the length of his twin's over and over. The smoke trapped between them escaped and Shiro groaned deep in his throat at the sharp taste that mixed with Ichigo's as they struggled against each other for dominance.

There was something satisfying about flexing his resolve against his twin's.

Ichigo was addicted to control. Was fighting for it with lithe muscle and vicious teeth and nails digging into his shoulders with every pass of his tongue over Ichigo's.

But Shiro didn't plan to give it up this time.

He let Ichigo make their decisions in every other aspect. This one was his. Ichigo would make him work for it, but it was better that way. Sweeter.

He didn't know where the cigarette had gone, but both of Ichigo's hands were on him, yanking him closer, one wrapped around his neck.

Shiro shoved his jacket open, sliding a palm around to scrape down the line of his spine. His back arched and Ichigo moaned into his mouth, fingers becoming unforgiving with his escalating need, digging into white skin, making Shiro shudder and tremble from the force of conflicting sensation.

But Ichigo was shivering too, tensing and straining under his wandering hands.

Their legs tangled under them, and Shiro pressed his thigh firm between Ichigo's, feeling the dig of hard, excited flesh into the surface of his leg.

Ichigo broke from his mouth to gasp, a hand grappling for purchase on the wall behind them as Shiro ground.

"Shiro…" Ichigo panted, brow tight, as if he were fighting some unnamed battle with himself. "Shi…" He licked his lips, but before Shiro could lean in and take them again, he dragged a hand down the front of his jeans, along the length of his twin's trapped erection and breathed, "Home. _Now_."

**A/N**

Thanks for reading :)


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